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FOOTSTEPS   IN  A  PARISH 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 


AN   APPRECIATION  OF 

MALTBIE  DAVENPORT  BABCOCK 

AS  A   PASTOR 


BY 

JOHN  TIMOTHY  STONE 

HIS   SUCCESSOR  IN 
BROWN    MEMORIAL.  CHURCH,    BALTIMORE 


"Others  have  laboured,  and  ye 
are  entered  into  their  labour." 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK 1908 


^^^/a^s 


Copyright.  1908.  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  October,  1908 


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THE  LOYAL  PEOPLE  OF 

BROWN  MEMORIAL  CHURCH, 

WHOSE  LOVE  AND  FAITHFULNESS 

HAVE  CAUSED  THOSE  WHO  HAVE  MINISTERED  TO  THEM 

TO  RISE  UP  AND  CALL  THEM  BLESSED 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 


A  PASTOR 

'He  knows  but  Jesus  Christ,  the  crucified. 
Ah,  little  recks  the  worldling  of  the  worth 
Of  such  a  man  as  this  upon  the  earth! 
Who  gives  himself — his  all — to  make  men  wise 
In  doctrines  which  his  life  exemplifies. 
The  years  pass  on,  and  a  great  multitude 
Still  find  in  him  a  character  whose  light 
Shines  round  him  like  a  candle  in  the  night; 
And  recognize  a  presence  so  benign 
That  to  the  godless  even  it  seems  divine. 
He  bears  his  people  s  love  within  his  heart, 
And  envies  no  man,  whatsoe'er  his  part. 
His  church's  record  grows,  and  grows  again. 
With  names  of  saintly  women-folks  and  men, 
And  many  a  worldling,  many  a  wayward  youth. 
He  counts  among  the  trophies  of  his  truth. 
Oh,  happy  man  !    There  is  no  man  like  thee. 
Worn  out  in  service  of  humanity; 
And  dead  at  last,  'mid  universal  tears, — 
Thy  name  a  fragrance  in  the  speaker's  breath, 
And  thy  divine  example  life  in  death." 

By  Dr.  J.  G.  Holland, 
From   The  Learned  Professions. 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A 
PARISH 

"They  ring  for  service,"  quoth  the  fisherman; 
"Our  parson  preaches  in  the  church  to-night. 

.   .   .  He's  a  rare  man, 
Our  parson;  half  a  head  above  us  all." 

IN  Jean  Ingelow's  beautiful  poem, 
*' Brothers   and  a   Sermon,"  we 
find    a  fitting  testimony  of    the 
one  whose  life  as  a  pastor  we  are  to 
consider : 

I  have  heard  many  speak,  but  this  one  man- 
So  anxious  not  to  go  to  heaven  alone — 
This  one  man  I  remember,  and  his  look, 
Till  twilight  overshadowed  him.     He  ceased, 
And  out  in  darkness  with  the  fisher  folk 
We  passed  and  stumbled  over  mounds  of  moss. 
And  heard,  but  did  not  see,  the  passing  beck, 
[3] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

Ah,  graceless  heart,  would  that  it  could  regain 
From  the  dim  storehouse  of  sensations  past 
The  impress  full  of  tender  awe,  that  night. 
Which  fell  on  me!     It  was  as  if  the  Christ 
Had  been  drawn  down  from  heaven  to  track  us 

home 
And  any  of  the  footsteps  following  us 
Might  have  been  His. 

Those  who  knew  Maltbie  Daven- 
port Babcock  as  a  pastor,  a  fellow- 
pastor  or  a  friend,  during  any  part 
of  the  thirteen  years  he  spent  in  Bal- 
timore, have  little  need  of  memory 
sketches  of  his  life  and  love;  for 
somehow  his  unique  personality  be- 
came ingrafted  into  their  very  lives. 
Years  have  passed  since  he  left  Balti- 
more to  take  up  the  pastorate  of  the 
Brick  Church  in  New  York,  and 
much  that  has  been  said  and  written 
of  him,  naturally  reflected  that  brief 

and  marvellous  pastorate  there. 
[4] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

From  the  very  first,  my  work  in  Foot- 
Baltimore  was  intimately  associated 
with  the  work  which  he  had  so  re- 
cently laid  down.  Prompted  and 
convinced  by  him  personally,  more 
than  by  any  other  save  the  Divine 
Spirit,  to  take  up  the  work  here,  I 
have  always  noted  and  gratefully 
welcomed  his  unmistakable  foot- 
prints all  along  the  way.  Although 
we  have  w^ell  entered  upon  the  ninth 
year  since  he  trod  the  path  before 
us,  time  and  passing  multitudes 
have  not  destroyed  his  footprints; 
and  we  are  still  reminded  that  "we 
can  make  our  lives  sublime." 

All  who  knew  him  as  a  pastor 
have  cherished  the  memory  of  those 
incidents  which  related  him  to  them, 
for  his  was  an  ideal  pastorate.  The 
emphasis  has  well  been  placed  upon 

[5] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

his  power  in  the  pulpit,  and  also  upon 
the  directness  and  force  of  his  written 
word.  His  voice  and  pen  are  known, 
but  no  gift  of  his  exceptional  versa- 
tility surpassed  his  devotion  and  use- 
fulness as  a  pastor.  With  this  in  view 
I  have  felt  constrained  to  write, 
prompted  not  only  by  deep  personal 
regard,  but  also  by  a  sense  of  duty. 
Many  new  faces  have  come  among 
his  old  parishioners,  and  there  are 
countless  children  growing  up  who 
will  never  know  him  save  as  a  name, 
unless  we  who  knew  and  loved  keep 
him  before  them  and  give  them  the 
blessing  of  incidental  reminiscences. 
One  cannot  but  believe  that  many 
ministers  as  well  as  students  in  our 
seminaries,  may  gain  a  blessing  in  the 
consideration  of  one  who  was  so  real 
and  vital  a  force  in  his  day  and  gen- 

[6] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

eration,  and  whose  life  incarnated, 
whose  spirit  breathed  and  whose 
face  reflected  his  Master  so  unmis- 
takably. 

Although  his  recognized  pulpit 
power  is  not  the  subject  of  our 
thought,  perhaps,  before  leaving  it 
entirely,  a  quotation  from  an  article 
in  **The  Congregationalist,"  written 
shortly  after  his  New  York  pastorate 
began,  might  be  given: 

I  would  that  I  could  reproduce  his  As  a 
very  language.  He  is  a  master  of^^^"^^^ 
sharp,  short  Saxon  words.  Words 
of  four  syllables  are  scarce  in  his 
vocabulary.  His  sermon  was  only 
half  an  hour  long,  but  it  w^as  what 
my  old  professor  of  homiletics  would 
call  a  march,  not  a  promenade.  It 
moved  to  the  one  aim  of  bringing 
men,  before  they  left  that  house,  to 
say,  **We  will  at  once  confess  Christ 
before  men."  It  dealt  at  close  range 
[7] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

with  each  man's  conscience.  Though 
he  said  some  severe  things,  the  smile 
that  played  about  his  face,  and  the 
love  that  looked  from  his  eyes  proved 
that  he  was,  as  a  friend  at  my  side 
remarked,  "the  apostle  of  a  religion 
of  happiness." 

I  have  heard  some  of  the  most 
noted  revival  preachers  and  evan- 
gelists of  this  century,  but  I  have 
never  heard  the  real  gospel  of  Jesus 
pressed  home  more  tenderly,  log- 
ically and  powerfully  than  that  morn- 
ing on  Fifth  Avenue.  And  I  rejoiced 
that  in  that  commanding  centre, 
where  Sunday  after  Sunday  he 
speaks  to  the  most  wealthy  and  cult- 
ured classes  of  the  metropolis,  to 
club  men  and  society  women.  Dr. 
Babcock  is  to  stand  possessing  the 
light  and  terminology  of  modern 
scholarship,  yet  telling  the  **old,  old 
story  of  Jesus  and  his  love"  in  a 
way  that  in  time  must  melt  the  walls 
of  indifference. 

We  would  also  quote  briefly  from 

[8] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

that   timely  soul-stirring    article    by 
Mr.  Robert  E.  Speer:— 

"There  was  at  the  table  reclining 
in  Jesus'  bosom,  one  of  His  disciples 
whom  Jesus  loved."  Mr.  Speer 
quotes  this  verse  as  the  one  doubt- 
less called  to  mind  by  many  in  their 
thoughts  of  Dr.  Babcock.  He  recalls 
their  last  meeting  together. 

We  were  walking  in  the  country,  Naturai- 
climbing  a  hill  overlooking  the  Hud-  ^^*- 
son,  and  the  spring  of  his  step  was 
only  a  sign  of  the  spring  of  his  mind 
and  soul.  Suddenly  he  stopped  to 
catch  sight  of  a  little  bird  on  a  tree, 
and  watched  it  with  delight  swing  to 
and  fro  on  the  frailest  of  twigs,  while 
he  quoted  some  lines  from  one  who 
saw  the  symbol  of  spiritual  freedom 
in  the  ease  and  liberty  of  the  bird. 

"  Like  as  a  bird,  that  lighted 
Upon  a  branch  that  swings 
Yet  sways  on,  unafFrighted 
Knowing  he  has  his  wings." 

[9] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

That  was  his  own  spirit — jubilant, 
sparkling.  I  never  knew  a  life  that 
seemed  here  on  earth  so  truly  to 
show  forth  the  bright  gladness  of  the 
life  of  those  who  stand  "all  rapture 
through  and  through,  in  God's  most 
holy  sight." 

He  continues: 

No  one  ever  touched  Dr.  Babcock 
without  gaining  some  sense  of  his 
rich  indifference  to  expenditure  of 
himself.  There  was  no  incessant  re- 
currence of  the  same  notes,  no  repe- 
tition of  phrases  and  anecdotes.  He 
was  himself  always,  but  he  was 
showing  himself  always  careless  of 
the  out-go,  prodigal  with  himself. 
He  had  enough  and  to  spare.  .  .  . 
He  was  perpetually  seeing  things  in 
new  ways  and  speaking  of  them  so. 
His  mind  declined  to  work  in  trite 
and  commonplace  forms.  In  this  as 
in  many  other  things  he  was  a  real 
genius.  There  was  a  tingle  and  bite 
to  his  habits  of  thought  and  forms 
of  speech  that  would  have  compelled 

[10] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

attention  if  they  had  not  captivated 
it  willingly.  He  did  not  seelv  to  be 
philosophical  or  abstruse.  He  did 
seek  to  be  personal  and  direct,  and 
to  clutch  each  man's  conscience 
and  will  and  life  and  soul  with  the 
jubilant,  symphonic  truth  of  God. 
Perpetually  flashes  of  humour  bright- 
ened all  his  talk.  He  could  not  have 
prevented  them  if  he  had  tried.  .  .  . 
He  was  a  personal  worker  of  super- 
lative capacity.  He  was  the  very 
prince  of  pastors,  full  of  the  most 
ingenious  devices  of  individual  in- 
terest and  generous  personal  love. 
He  kept  a  record  of  the  deaths  in  his 
congregation,  and  on  the  anniversary 
of  the  sorrow  wrote  to  the  one  who 
mourned.  He  had  called  on  every 
family  in  the  Brick  Church  in  New 
York,  within  the  first  year.  .  .  . 


Unique  as  a  preacher,  we  turn  to  Pastoral 

1  ^  .  .  Calling. 

him  as  a  pastor.  Nothing  in  the 
large  round  of  his  regular  and  irreg- 
ular duties  interfered  with  his  devo- 

[11] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

tion  and  faithfulness  to  pastoral  visi- 
tation. Directly  after  his  office  hour, 
daily,  he  went  into  his  parish.  Few 
men  could  make  as  many  calls  and 
cover  so  wide  an  area.  His  sympa- 
thetic personality  attracted  to  the 
church  people  from  all  parts  of  the 
city,  to  say  nothing  of  a  wide  sub- 
urban following.  Although  regular 
and  systematic  in  visiting  definite 
districts,  constantly  he  was  com- 
pelled to  hasten  to  far-separated 
points  on  account  of  sickness  or  dis- 
tress. For  many  years  he  used  a 
bicycle,  and  it  is  said  that  no  one 
knew  the  definition  of  a  straight  line 
between  two  Baltimore  points  better 
than  he,  choosing  almost  instinct- 
ively the  pavements  which  meant 
quickest  transportation. 
No    doubt    some    pastors    uninten- 

[12] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

tionally  exaggerate  the  number  of 
calls  they  really  make,  or  are  so 
swamped  by  the  immense  number 
they  would  like  to  make,  that  they 
fail  to  note  the  discrepancy  between 
the  ideal  and  the  actual.  Few  pas- 
tors can  make  a  large  number  of 
calls  in  an  afternoon  and  still  call 
satisfactorily.  The  ordinary  pastor 
perhaps  averages  six  or  eight,  taking 
into  account  the  distances  to  be 
covered  in  a  large  parish.  Dr.  Bab- 
cock  frequently  made  five  or  six  an 
hour,  and  often  fifteen  or  twenty  in 
an  afternoon.  He  was  able  to  run  in 
and  out  so  as  to  accomplish  the  ob- 
ject of  a  pastor  as  well  as  if  he  had 
stayed  longer.  He  had  a  way  of 
running  into  homes  where  he  knew 
all  was  well,  and  saying  he  simply 
ran    in    to    say    *'Boo."     In    other 

[13] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

words  the  people  knew  through  some 
such  by-word  that  he  was  thinking 
of  them  but  was  too  busy  to  stay 
longer.  On  one  occasion,  when  asked 
why  he  could  not  stay  longer,  he  re- 
plied: "Why,  did  you  think  I  had 
time  to  come  around  here  and  bring 
my  knitting?"  He  had  a  way  fre- 
quently of  asking  the  servant,  when 
he  was  told  that  Mrs.  So-and-So 
"would  be  down  in  a  few  minutes," 
to  tell  her  he  was  going  to  run  in  next 
door,  and  would  be  back  in  five  or 
ten  minutes,  adding  that  she  would 
understand.  When  he  did  sit  in  the 
parlour  and  wait,  it  was  always  to 
utilize  some  book  or  magazine  on  the 
library  table,  or  one  from  his  pocket. 
His  method  of  controlling  the  con- 
versation was  such  that  he  quickly 
got  down  to  the  essential,  and  often 

[14] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

gave  the  impression  that  he  had 
stayed  much  longer  than  he  really 
had.  He  seemed  to  anticipate 
thoughtfully  just  what  topics  of  vital 
interest  should  be  approached  and 
encouraged. 

The  afternoon's  calling  was  in- 
variably followed  by  numerous  notes 
in  the  evening.  The  day's  work  was 
done  day  by  day,  hence  the  inertia 
and  discouragement  of  accumulated 
details  were  overcome.  Frequently 
a  note  simply  contained  a  line  or  two 
with  a  bit  of  a  poem  or  quotation 
enclosed  which  touched  the  indi- 
vidual case;  sometimes  merely  a 
marginal  w^ord,  or  initials  written 
upon  the  edge  of  a  card.  It  was  the 
personal  touch  all  the  way  along, 
day  by  day,  week  by  week,  year  in 
and  year  out. 

[15] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

His  tireless,  unceasing  labour  as 
a  pastor  is  almost  incomprehensible. 
Although  the  church  numbered 
nearly  eight  hundred  members,  and 
almost  double  that  in  congrega- 
tional adherents,  he  worked  without 
an  assistant,  and  aimed  to  call  in 
each  home  during  the  year,  many 
years  attaining  that  aim. 

His  work  with  students  was  re- 
markable, and  although  he  did  not 
by  any  means  call  upon  all  those 
who  sat  under  his  ministry,  he  fol- 
lowed up  very  carefully  the  men 
whom  he  did  know,  and  with  whom 
he  was  in  touch.  Students'  rooms 
were  often  entered  in  a  quiet,  natural 
way.  He  sat  down  with  the  boys  im- 
mediately, making  them  feel  suffi- 
ciently at  home  so  that  pipes  were 
not  thumbed  out,  or  coats  drawn  on. 

[16] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

In  speaking  of  his  work  among 
young  men,  one  already  quoted  says, 
*'He  never  gave  up  hope,  but  once 
on  a  man's  track,  so  to  speak,  he 
was  never  shaken  off.  He  watched 
his  man,  let  him  alone,  touched  him 
again,  met  him  when  he  was  needed, 
and  appeared  to  abandon  him,  while 
he  bore  him  unceasingly  on  his  heart, 
and  was  resolved  never  to  let  him 
go  until  brought  to  Christ.  A  per- 
fect genius  in  conversation,  flinging 
off  sparks  as  from  a  blacksmith's 
anvil,  he  never  lost  sight  of  the  spir- 
itual end.  He  was  filled  with  Christ's 
passion  for  men,  and  used  his  un- 
rivalled gifts  never  for  mere  social 
ends  but  always  for  the  diviner  use." 

He  related  the  parish  to  the  pulpit  Frank- 
ness. 
m  many  practical  ways,  and  never 

hesitated  to  suggest  from  the  pulpit 

[17] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

in  a  frank  and  simple  manner, 
specific  opportunities  to  assist.  For 
instance,  he  occasionally  referred  to 
the  inconvenience  a  pastor  undergoes 
in  hunting  for  people  who  have 
moved,  simply  because  they  fail  to 
notify  him.  He  would  cite  the  thought- 
fulness  of  a  woman  who  would  send 
down  word  when  dressing  or  occu- 
pied, that  she  could  not  come  down 
at  once,  and  suggested  his  returning. 
He  frequently  used  a  telephone,  or 
correspondence,  to  make  appoint- 
ments, where  he  had  failed  to  gain 
access  through  the  ignorance  or  care- 
lessness of  unreliable  servants. 

Always  alert  to  commend,  he  did 
not  hesitate  to  reprove  the  church  in 
her  failings,  but  always  with  the 
remedy  at  hand.  Tardy  attendance 
at  church  service,  and  an  unfriendly 

[18] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

spirit  toward  strangers  were  reproved 
in  the  following  editorial,  which  he 
wrote  for  the  Church  "Monthly:" 

The  ushers  of  Brown  Memorial  Tact. 
are  thoughtful  men,  held  in  honour 
for  their  work's  sake  if  not  for  their 
patience.  They  earn  a  salary  which 
is  never  paid,  except  when  the  mem- 
bers of  the  church,  by  words  of  sym- 
pathy and  recognition,  warm  their 
hearts.  In  several  ways  we  can 
lighten  their  spirits  and  lengthen 
their  lives.  Come  punctually  to 
church.  It  helps  the  order  of  God's 
house.  It  will  give  you  a  short 
preparatory  •  service.  To  be  a  little 
ahead  of  time  costs  but  a  little 
thought,  and  will  prove  an  invest- 
ment from  which  fine  dividends  are 
drawn  all  through  life. 

Tell  the  usher,  as  you  enter  church, 
of  any  vacant  seats  in  your  pew.  If 
you  have  sittings  and  the  vestibule  is 
crowded,  go  through  the  chapel  or 
the  yard  of  the  Manse,  and  enter 
the  church  by  one  of  the  west  doors, 
fiol 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

Strangers  should  not  do  this.  If  you 
find  your  place  taken,  remember  that 
the  usher  is  but  *'dust  and  ashes," 
like  yourself,  and  that  this  is  a  "well 
regulated  family."  Smile  on  him 
and  say,  '*It  is  all  right.  I  will  take 
the  stranger's  chance  to-day."  So  you 
will  relieve  his  fears  and  find  a 
saint's  niche  in  his  esteem.  The 
service  may  be  blessed  to  you  from 
a  new  point  of  view. 

When  the  church  became  over- 
crowded during  the  latter  part  of  his 
pastorate  in  Baltimore,  he  frequently 
placed  in  the  hands  of  a  friend  his 
card,  asking  the  usher  to  give  to  the 
individual  whose  name  was  written 
upon  the  card  a  seat. 

He  had   an   arrangement  with  the 
sexton  of  the  church,  whereby  nu- 
merous   personal    notes    were    an- 
swered through  the  medium  of  the 
church    service.    A    drawer    of    his 

[20] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

desk  was  permanently  designated 
for  the  faithful  sexton.  This  was 
visited  every  Sunday  morning  before 
service,  and  numerous  notes  quietly 
placed  in  the  hands  of  the  ushers, 
who  gave  them  to  parishioners  when 
entering  or  leaving  the  church,  the 
number  of  the  pew,  or  location  in 
the  church,  frequently  designated  on 
the  envelope  as  addressed. 

Although  loyal  to  the  standards  of  Breadth. 
his  church,  and  believing  in  her  con- 
sistent character.  Dr.  Babcock  was 
not  a  narrow  denominationalist.  He 
was  not  anxious  to  make  Presbyte- 
rians, but  Christians,  and  as  readily 
urged  people  to  unite  with  other 
churches  as  with  his  own,  when  cir- 
cumstances warranted  it.  To  one  he 
writes,  "  Just  *  Why  are  you  a  Pres- 

[21] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

byterian  ? '  is  a  question  we  do  not 
ask  you.  If  you  are  to  be  a  better 
Christian  by  the  grace  of  God  and 
enjoy  Him,  the  object  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church  has  been  accom- 
pHshed." 

To  one  who  had  received  help  at 
a  church  service,  but  who  did  not 
feel  quite  at  home,  and  had  written 
to  make  an  appointment,  he  wrote, 
'*You  are  welcome  (pews,  or  no 
pews)  if  there  is  here  the  help  you 
need.  You  need  not  give  your- 
self any  concern  about  uniting  with 
this  communion  (we  are  all  one  in 
Jesus  Christ).  You  need  not  unless 
you  want  to.  I  shall  be  glad  to  call 
on  you  at  your  home  the  first  chance 
I  get.  Pay  as  little  attention  to  dis- 
couragements as  possible.  Plough 
ahead  as  a  steamer  does,  rough  or 

[22] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

smooth,  rain  or  shine.  Carry  your 
cargo  and  make  your  port,  is  the 
point." 

Many  teachers,  both  in  our  pubHc  Teachers. 
and  private  schools,  some  of  whom 
were  not  identified  with  the  church 
in  membership,  looked  upon  him  as 
pastor.  Even  after  his  removal  to 
New  York,  he  kept  in  touch  with 
many  of  them.  He  writes  to  one, 
"Your  note  gave  me  real  pleasure. 
I  wish  you  could  have  blown  over 
here  with  the  breeze.  Blow  into 
New  York  City  some  time  when  we 
are  at  home,  and  say  at  church  that 
you  are  one  of  my  *  old  time  friends,' 
and  sit  near  the  front,  and  then  come 
to  14  East  Thirty-seventh,  and  pick 
a  bone  with  us.  I  hope  the  Summer 
will  refresh  you.  To  be  useful  is  the 

[23] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

core  and  crown  of  life.  Be  more 
useful  than  ever.  Remember  me 
thru  the  Heacher  coterie.'  Ever  your 
friend,  Domine  B." 

Although  some  have  said  that  he 
did  not  know  how  to  rest,  those  w^ho 
knew  him  most  intimately  realized 
that  change  of  employment  was  rest 
to  one  of  his  temperament.  At  the 
close  of  a  vacation  he  writes:  "There 
would  be  no  deep  colour,  or  real  joy, 
in  vacation,  if  it  did  not  draw  out  the 
hard  work  and  send  us  back  heartier." 

"  He  seemed  to  see  the  need,  physi- 
cal as  well  as  mental,  in  some  who 
were  overworked  and  never  failed 
to  enlighten  them.  Let  me  sug- 
gest apropos  of  something  in  your 
note,  that  nature  is  a  punctilious 
bookkeeper    and    charges   up   every 

[24] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

item  in  our  vital  account.  It  may  be 
that  you  have  been  overdrawing,  liv- 
ing beyond  your  means.  Shut  off 
the  harshest  note  and  put  on  the 
softest  dulciano.  I  believe  in  getting 
tired.  No  one  is  worth  anything  to 
the  world  who  does  not  get  tired, 
but  a  day's  work  that  a  night  will 
not  rest,  a  year's  work  that  a  vaca- 
tion will  not  rest,  is  not  good  work. 
Steady  yourself,  for  you  know  you 
are  of  the  intense  kind.  Leisurely 
is  not  lazily.  The  heart  rests  be- 
tween its  beats,  and  I  know  you 
know  the  secret  of  lifting  your  heart 
to  the  Lord,  and  letting  it  rest  w4th 
Him  even  in  the  midst  of  your  cares." 

He    rejoiced     in     personal     corre-  Corre- 
spondence; questions  which  touched  ence. 
vital   points.    Probably   no   minister 

[25] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

ever  had  a  larger  personal  corre- 
spondence. Scores  of  notes  were 
often  written  in  a  day,  and  to  each 
he  gave  his  best,  real  self.  For  ex- 
ample, "You  do  me  good  like  medi- 
cine, and  I  thank  you  heartily. 
Your  friend  is  wrong.  No  earnest 
heart  is  hurt  by  words  of  apprecia- 
tion." 

He  always  dealt  precisely  with  the 
problem  at  hand.  To  one  in  diffi- 
culty he  wrote:  ''Obedience  is  the 
eye  of  the  soul.  Communion  is  the 
opportunity  of  obedience  sooner  or 
later  rewarded.  John  14  :  21,  is  true, 
unchangeable, — but  just  when  Jesus 
manifests  Himself  is  not  said.  Obey 
and  trust.  Ever  your  friend, M.D.B." 

His  peculiar  gift  in  brevity  and 
exactness  should  be  noted.  He  had 

[26] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

a  remarkable  way  of  putting  words 
together,  relating  thought  and  eu- 
phony, condensing  truth  but  light- 
ing up  dark  skies  as  with  an  electric 
flash.    To  a  nature-lover  he  wrote: 

Thank  you  for  your  kindest  words. 
I  think  of  your  friendship  with  pleas- 
ure and  rejoice  in  your  vision  and 
your  devotion  to  duty  and  beauty. 

His  pen  was  his  servant  as  a  pas-  Note- 

^/VvitxTVO. 

tor  as  much  as  his  feet  in  calling, 
and  especially  in  meeting  individual 
problems.  To  one  who  had  written 
her  doubts  as  to  Christian  Science, 
he  answered  with  the  following  letter: 

I  can  only  speak  for  myself.  I 
would  not  consider  Christian  Science 
anything  short  of  the  Witch  of  Endor. 
The  basis  of  it  on  which  it  certainly 
has  helped  many  people  is  a  truth 
always  known  and  now  more  and 
more  appreciated.    .  .  .    The  power 

[27] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

of  mind  over  matter !  That  is  hardly 
explored  yet,  although  Magnetism, 
Perkins  "Metallic  Tractors,"  Mes- 
merism, Hypnotism,  Telepathy,  and 
what  not,  have  dug  quite  a  way  into 
the  mountain.  There  is  the  practical 
human  basis  of  C.  S.  on  the  divine 
side.  I  wish  I  knew  what  God 
thinks,  but  this  much  is  true,  that  this 
new  system  which  denies  the  'person- 
ality of  God  (and  that  ends  "our 
faith"),  the  reality  of  sin  and  the 
atonement,  may  call  itself  Christian, 
but  is  an  infringement  on  the  patent. 
I  think  C.  S.  neither  Christian  nor 
scientific.  I  could  tell  you  of  people 
I  have  known  intimately,  who  were 
uplifted,  exalted,  cured  and  who 
afterwards  absolutely  collapsed,  and 
in  several  distressing  instances,  died. 
Their  whole  system  breaks  down  at 
death.  Mrs.  Eddy  will  die  when  her 
time  comes  just  like  the  rest  of  us. 
They  are  full  of  words,  and  are  cov- 
ered up  in  inconsistencies.  I  would  not 
have  anything  to  do  with  them.  I  can 
give  you  all  you  want  to  read,  if  you 

[28] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

care  to  have  me.  I  am  in  no  way  in- 
different to  the  sufferings  in  this  par- 
ticular case  nor  to  your  heart.  Can- 
not she  chiim  God's  goodness  and 
power  quite  as  well  under  James's 
auspices  (James  5  :  15),  as  under 
Mrs.  Eddy's  ?  I  send  you  a  small 
book  and  clippings. 


This  little  poem  which  follows  is  the 
one  he  enclosed  and  is  a  sample  of 
a  vast  number  he  constantly  used, 
always  suggestive  and  to  the  point. 

Rest  in  the  Lord,  my  soul; 

Commit  to  Him  thy  way. 
What  to  thy  sight  seems  dark  as  night. 

To  Him  is  bright  as  day. 

Rest  in  the  Lord,  my  soul; 

He  planned  for  thee  thy  life, 
Brings  fruits  from  rain,  brings  good 
from  pain, 
And  peace  and  joy  from  strife. 
[29] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

Rest  in  the  Lord,  my  soul; 

This  fretting  weakens  thee. 
Why  not  be  still  ?     Accept  His  will; 

Thou  shalt  His  glory  see. 

His  correspondence  reached  to  all. 
The  man  who  delivered  milk  at  the 
house,  the  street-car  conductor  or 
the  piano-tuner,  were  looked  upon  not 
so  much  as  servants,  but  as  friends. 
To  his  piano-tuner,  he  once  wrote: 

Enclosed  find  Two  Dollars  ($2.00) 
for  your  last  medical  services  to  your 
patient  in  the  parlour.  Our  quar- 
tette is  broken  up  for  the  summer, 
and  our  house  is  to  be  cleaned  out  in 
a  week  or  two.  With  heartfelt  appre- 
ciation for  all  your  kindnesses,  and 
with  the  hope  that  next  winter  your 
professional  services  will  be  called 
for,  I  am 

Yours  very  truly, 

M.  D.  B. 

He    was    gifted    in    helping    two 

[30] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

persons  at  the  same  time,  as  the  fol- 
lowing letter  will  show: 

Dear  Mr.  Blank  : 

A  poor  woman  in  our  church  has 
a  piano  which  a  blind  man  used  to 
tune  for  One  Dollar.  If  you  can 
afford  to  do  it  for  that  price,  call  at 
the  enclosed  address,  presenting  this 
card.  Then,  when  you  are  in  our 
neighbourhood,  cast  your  friendly  eye 
and  turn  your  critical  ear  upon  my 
piano. 

When  he  went  to  New  York  his  im- 
mediate duties  increased  immeasur- 
ably, but  no  detail  of  need  seemed  to 
escape  his  notice  and  loving  thought. 
He  seemed  to  appreciate  George 
Eliot's  thought,  "I  desire  no  future 
that  will  break  the  ties  of  the  past." 
All  kinds  of  personal  notes  went  to 
different  people.  His  same  old  piano- 
tuner  received  the  following  letter: 

[311 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

Before  I  leave  for  my  work,  I  wish 
to  tell  vou  how  much  I  appreciate 
the  perfection  of  the  work  you  have 
done  on  my  piano  (and  violin,  too), 
and  the  punctuality  and  politeness 
that  have  always  characterized  you. 
Wherever  I  am,  I  hope  you  will  al- 
ways think  of  me  as  your  sincere 
friend. 

Acknowi-  Every  kindness  and  gift  was 
promptly  and  characteristically  ac- 
knowledged. A  bouquet  of  wild  flow- 
ers brought  at  once  this  note: 

Oh,  so  beautiful  and  refreshing! 
How  near  flowers  bring  your  thoughts 
to  children,  birds,  angels  and  the 
good  God! 

In  acknowledging  a  Christmas  gift 
from  one  of  the  older  members  of  the 
church  he  wrote: 

Happy,  hearty  thanks  to  you,  and 
many  more  New  Years,  as  the  loving 

[321 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

Father  thinks  best,  and  100000000000- 
0000000000000000  in  the  Hfeto  come. 

An  elder  who  had  brought  him  a 
brace  of  partridges  from  a  Httle 
hunting  trip  in  Virginia,  received  an 
illustrated  card  portraying  a  man 
walking  in  the  mountains,  with  the 
sun  rising,  and  his  gun  discharg- 
ing over  his  head,  with  the  words 
'*Many  thanks,"  and  the  date. 

One  of  the  most  characteristic  illus-  Sym- 
trations  of  the  far  reach  of  his  sym- 
pathy and  love  is  related  by  a  mother 
in  one  of  the  other  large  parishes  of 
his  own  denomination.  The  only 
daughter  in  the  home  had  suddenly 
been  stricken  with  a  disease,  slow  but 
necessarily  fatal,  which  ultimately 
caused  her  death.  The  church  of  which 
she  was  a  member  had  been  for  some 

[33] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

time  without  a  pastor.  That  Summer 
he  spent  abroad.  When  in  Edinburgh, 
he  remembered  a  former  conversa- 
tion with  this  girl  and  thought  of  her 
in  her  illness,  and  without  a  pastor. 
Recalling  this  conversation  they  once 
had  together  in  regard  to  Edinburgh, 
he  wrote  a  long  and  beautiful  letter, 
explaining  how  much  he  knew  she 
must  miss  a  pastor  at  that  time.  It 
was  not  as  if  he  had  taken  time  to 
do  these  things  from  the  duties  of 
his  own  parish,  for  this  was  the 
"second  mile"  in  his  life,  and  one 
who  so  constantly  and  faithfully 
remembered  those  of  his  own  mem- 
bership, naturally  and  spontaneously 
gave  his  best  to  others  also. 


Young       He    entered    into    the    life    of   the 
young  of  the  parish  by  a  sympathetic 

[341 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

understanding  and  appreciation  of  all 
their  occupations.  The  readmg  of  the 
young  lives  was  constantly  a  matter 
of  interest  to  him.  To  one  he  writes: 

With  the  selections  of  your  reading 
in  Thackeray,  Eliot  and  Dickens,  1 
am  in  deep  sympathy.  Why  will  peo- 
ple drink  muddy  water,  when  such 
clear-flowing  can  be  had  ? 

A  vacation  letter  in  answer  to  one 
whose  love  for  nature  always  was 
recognized,  says: 

Store  up  these  lovely  memories,  and 
be  faithful,  and  let  all  the  holiness 
of  beauty  lure  you  to  the  beauty 
of  holiness.  I  pray  that  seeing  God 
in  everything  may  lead  you  to  show- 
ing Him  in  everything.  May  Sum- 
mer rest  be  Winter  work  for  us  all. 

All  kinds  of  suggestions  he  had  to 
interest  the  boys  and  girls  in  the 
parish.  When   visiting   the   galleries 

[35] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

in  Paris,  on  the  trip  taken  in  1898, 
he  wrote: 

One  of  the  pleasantest  ways  of 
eating  your  cake  and  having  it  too, 
is  making  an  album  of  famous  pict- 
ures. They  can  be  picked  up  here 
and  there  in  magazines,  or  bought 
for  little  money  in  large  quantities. 
Little  by  little  your  acquaintance- 
ship grows,  and  with  it  your  works 
of  art  and  genius.  More  education 
and  cultivation  can  be  gained  from 
such  a  course  than  coins,  stamps,  or 
autographs  can  give.  I  will  be  glad 
to  hear  that  any  of  the  boys  and  girls 
at  home  will  make  a  beginning,  and 
I  will  aid  and  abet  them  all  I  can. 

His  marvellous  thoughtfulness  was 
seen  on  his  last  trip  to  the  Holy  Land. 
Just  before  he  was  called  from  earth 
I  received  the  following  note  from 
him,  dated — 

Bethel,  fiTst  half  day  out 

of  Jerusalem, 

[36] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

I  have  ordered  four  hundred  cards  The 
adorned  with  flowers  of  Palestine,  C'/ii^ren 
to  be  sent  to  you  for  the  Brown  Me- 
morial Sabbath  School  Scholars,  with 
oldtime  love  and  greeting.  The 
Brown  Memorial  travellers  are  do- 
ing well  and  adding  much  to  the 
pleasure  of  the  party.  This  pict- 
ure is  of  the  edge  of  the  Valley  Ked- 
ron,  looking  from  Jerusalem  toward 
Mount  of  Olives.  Love  to  you  and 
our  friends. 

These  cards  are  now  framed  and 
adorn  hundreds  of  homes  in  Balti- 
more and  elsewhere. 

His  love  and  interest  in  the  chil- 
dren was  singularly  beautiful.  If 
ever  a  man  loved  them  he  did,  but 
few  took  so  much  time  with  them. 
His  notes  to  the  children  are  fasci- 
nating. Would  that  we  could  exactly 
reproduce  many,  showing  his  quick 
and  striking  use  of  illustration.  Here 

[37] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

is  a  note  to  the  Junior  Department 
in  the  Sunday  School: 

My  dear  Junior  Brothers  and 
Sisters  : 
I  hope  you  will  all  be  true  to  your 
promise  and  true  to  your  Saviour 
and  Master,  this  year.  Attend  punct- 
ually the  meetings,  learn  your  verses, 
take  your  part,  remembering  that 
these  are  the  most  important  days  of 
your  life,  beginning  good  habits  or 
bad  ones.  The  wax  gets  hard  in  the 
shape  it  was  when  soft.  The  dough 
cake  bakes  in  the  form  of  the  pan. 
The  hot  iron  gets  cold  and  stiff  in 
the  mould,  and  children  make  or  mar 
their  lives  before  they  are  twelve. 
Try  every  day  to  please  Jesus,  and 
you  will  grow  up  to  be  like  Him. 
Ever  your  friend, 

M.  D.  Babcock. 

A  Easter  gift  from  two  little  sisters 
prompted  the  following: 

Thank  you  for  the  green  egg  and 
the  pink  basket.  I  appreciate  your 

[38] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

thinking  of  me  when  you  have  so 
much  to  learn,  and  so  many  games 
to  play,  and  so  many  little  friends, 
and  so  many  good  meals  to  eat,  and 
everytJiing.  I  hope  you  will  both 
ask  yourselves  every  day,  "What 
can  I  do  to  make  some  one  happy 
to-day?"  This  will  help  to  make 
your  life  like  the  life  of  the  loving 
Saviour. 

Ever  your  friend, 

Maltbie  D.  Babcock. 

Even  a  valentine  from  two  little  sis- 
ters had  a  unique  reply  which  is  repro- 
duced in  facsimile  opposite  page  40. 

His    children's    sermons,  given    at  ChU- 

,  •  1       •  1  dren's 

least  twice  durmg  the  year,  were  Senmns. 
anticipated  and  remembered.  He 
once  said,  *' Talking  to  children  is 
one  of  the  most  delightful  tasks  in  the 
world,  but  talking  to  children  before 
adults  is  like  David  dancing  before 
the  Lord  with  Michal  looking  out  of 

[39] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

the  window."  But  he  forgot  the 
adults,  and  talked  directly  to  the 
children,  and  frequently  on  Chil- 
dren's Day  asked  them  to  write  for 
him  extracts  of  the  sermon.  Chil- 
dren never  have  forgotten  his  love 
for  the  word  Grow,  which  he  fixed 
in  the  memory  by  the  acrostic  ''Go 
Right  On  Working,''  The  following 
selections  from  his  sermons,  as  re- 
membered by  nine-year  old  listeners, 
show  his  power  as  well  as  his  simple 
impressive  style: 

What  is  the  chief  end  of  man  ?  It 
is  neither  his  head  nor  his  feet,  but 
the  chief  end  of  man  is  to  glorify  God 
and  enjoy  Him  forever.  What  is 
meant  by  glorifying  ?  It  means  to  do 
our  very  best  to  praise  the  one  who 
has  helped  us.  For  example:  Some 
one  asked  a  little  girl  to  play  a  piece 
on  the  piano,  and  she  said,  "Oh,  no, 
I  could  not  think  of  such  a  thing." 

[40] 


REV.    MALTBIE    DAVENPORT    BABCOCK, 

BROWN    MEMORIAL   PRESBYTERIAN    CHURCH. 

BALTIMORE. 

(T)  j^   Thy     IftltHtcJClcU, 

A  reply  to  a  xalcntiiic  from  two  sisters 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

She  was  asked,  *'How  long  have  you 
been  taking  lessons?"  "For  two 
years,"  she  said.  Well,  this  little  girl 
was  not  glorifying  her  teacher.  An- 
other little  girl  was  asked  if  she  could 
play  a  piece.  She  said,  "Yes,  sir, 
you  are  very  kind  to  ask  me,"  and 
she  played  very  well,  only  making  a 
few  mistakes.  She  was  asked,  "How 
long  have  you  been  taking  lessons.?" 
and  she  replied,  "One  year."  Well, 
that  little  girl  was  glorifying  her 
teacher.  What  is  man  for.?  Man 
was  made  to  do  the  best  he  could  to 
glorify  God.  He  was  not  made  to 
kick  like  a  mule,  nor  bark  and  snarl 
like  a  dog,  nor  to  be  a  dumb  figure 
dressed  up  like  those  in  front  of  the 
clothing  stores.  Like  a  watch,  he 
was  made  for  a  certain  purpose. 
The  best  thing  a  watch  can  do  is  to 
keep  correct  time.  It  is  not  to  be 
used  to  prop  up  a  broken  piano  leg, 
or  for  any  other  strange  use.  Every 
one  has  his  share  of  good  to  do  even 
if  he  is  poor  and  helpless. 
March  17,  1891. 

[41] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

Once  upon  a  time  Jesus  was  in  a 
house  with  many  people.  He  saw 
a  blind  man  coming.  Do  you  think 
He  said,  "  What  can  I  get  this  man  to 
do  for  me.^"  No,  Jesus  thought, 
**What  can  I  do  for  this  poor  bUnd 
man.P"  Jesus  '*went  about  doing 
good."  Acts  10:38.  You  should 
not  go  around  teasing  your  little 
brother  and  sister.  You  do  not  want 
this  on  your  tombstone,  "This  is  the 
child  who  teased  everybody."  You 
should  not  always  want  the  largest 
piece  of  anything.  You  do  not  want 
this  on  your  tombstone,  "This  was 
a  greedy  child."  You  should  be  kind 
to  everything. 

Once  a  gentleman  was  walking 
along  the  street,  when  he  saw  a  dog 
wagging  his  tail  and  trying  to  get  in 
a  gate.  He  thought,  "What  can  I 
do  for  this  poor  dog  ?"  He  laid  down 
his  satchel,  walked  across  the  street, 
opened  the  gate  and  let  him  in,  and 
made  the  dog  feel  glad. 

I  would  rather  be  a  stream  of 
water  than  a  pool,  for  it  goes  around 

[42] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

doing  good.  The  birds  come  down 
and  drink  out  of  it.  It  runs  through 
the  spring-house  and  keeps  the  milk 
cool.  It  dampens  the  farmer's  ground 
and  does  lots  of  good.  But  the  pool 
stands  still,  just  as  stingy  as  can  be, 
with  nothing  but  frogs  and  tadpoles 
in  it. 

The  door  is  the  entrance  to  any  The 
place.  I  suppose  you  have  passed  ^^^^' 
through  at  least  six  doors  to-day; 
the  bed-room  door,  the  bath-room 
door,  and  if  every  boy  and  girl  had 
their  breakfast  they  passed  through 
the  dining-room  door,  front  door, 
Sunday  School  door  and  church 
door.  There  are  ugly  doors  which 
you  bang!  When  the  boys  come 
home  from  school,  they  think  so 
much  about  the  piece  of  ginger-bread 
they  are  going  to  get,  that  they  leave 
the  front  door  open,  and  baby 
catches  cold.  Presently  mother  calls, 
"Where  in  the  world  does  that  draft 
come  from  ?  You,  Harry,  shut  that 
door."  Then  Mr.  Harry  gives  the 
door  a  bang.  That  is  the  same  as 

[43] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

making  the  door  swear.  Doors  hang 
on  a  very  small  thing  called  a  hinge. 
Not  long  ago,  as  a  minister  was 
walking  across  the  fields,  he  became 
very  thirsty,  so  he  stopped  at  a  house 
and  asked  a  pretty  little  girl  for  a 
drink  of  water.  **  Certainly,"  she 
said,  and  she  brought  him  a  dipper 
full.  Then  he  asked  her  if  she  knew 
who  said,  *'  I  am  the  water  of  life,"  and 
she  said  *'  Jesus."  Then  he  asked  her 
if  she  ever  asked  for  this  water  of  life, 
and  she  said  "No."  So  he  passed  on. 
Some  years  later,  when  he  was  on  a 
steamboat,  a  lady  came  up  to  him  and 
asked  him  whether  he  knew  her. 
"No,"  he  said,  "I  do  not."  "Do  you 
not  remember  some  time  ago  when 
you  were  crossing  the  field,  and  you 
stopped  at  a  house  and  asked  for  a 
drink  of  water .?"  "Yes,"  said  he, 
"I  believe  I  do."  "Well,  I  am  that 
little  girl,  and  I  have  been  a  Chris- 
tian ever  since."  This  was  a  large 
door  on  a  very  small  hinge. 

The  following  is  from  an  eight-year- 
old  boy: 

[44] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

The  Bees.  The  bees  are  always  The  Bees. 
busy.  They  are  not  Hke  the  flies. 
FHes  are  lazy.  The  way  bees  talk, 
they  talk  with  their  two  hairs  in  the 
front  of  their  mouth.  Sometimes  they 
say,  "There  is  a  bug  over  there.  Let 
us  go  and  get  it."  The  next  is  about 
its  body.  It  is  a  little  round  thing  with 
several  wings  on  it.  Its  tongue  is  as 
long  as  its  body.  Now  suppose  your 
tongue  was  as  long  as  your  body. 
Now,  wouldn't  it  be  funny  when  the 
doctor  comes,  if  he  would  say,  "Put 
out  your  tongue."  The  third  thing  is 
about  its  legs.  When  they  come  out 
of  the  flowers  the  powder  is  all  over 
their  backs.  Then  they  use  their  feet 
to  brush  it  all  off.  Their  legs  are  just 
like  brushes.  The  female  bees  are 
always  busy.  They  are  not  like  the 
male  bees.  They  are  lazy,  fly  low  to 
the  ground,  and  keep  up  a  nasty 
buzz.  The  females  are  very  useful. 
They  go  out  and  get  honey  and  sap. 
The  things  they  live  in  are  called 
hives.  Sometimes  a  snail  gets  into 
the  hive,   and  the   bees   sting  it  to 

[45] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

death,  and  then  fly  out  and  get  some 
sap  or  gum  and  spread  all  over  it. 
The  bees  teach  us  a  lesson  about  not 
being  lazy.  Whenever  father  or  moth- 
er are  sick  or  tired,  ask  them  if  you 
can't  go  on  the  errand  for  them.  If 
they  are  better  tell  them  they  better 
go  driving  and  I  will  stay  at  home. 

This  from  a  nine-year  old: 

The  My  dear  Pastor:  This  is  what  I 

^Tuse  ^^^i^^i^ber  of  the  sermon.  Don't  hit 
people  younger  than  yourself.  It  is 
a  bad  spirit  that  makes  you  do  it. 
.  .  .  There  are  four  things,  the  tem- 
ple, the  bad  man,  the  porter,  and  the 
King.  The  temple  is  yourself,  the  bad 
man  is  Satan,  the  Porter  is  the  man 
that  lived  in  the  King's  house,  the 
King  is  the  Lord.  The  Porter  kept 
the  King's  house  very  clean  and  nice, 
but  one  day  the  bad  man  came  and 
said  to  the  Porter  that  he  was  one  of 
his  friends;  and  the  Porter  said, 
"Are  you.?"  *'Yes,"  was  the  reply. 
Then  the  Porter  said,  "If  you  are, 
you  can  come  in,"  and  the  bad  man 

[46] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

came  in,  and  when  he  did,  he  took 
a  sword  out  of  his  breast  and  said: 
"This  house  is  mine,  and  you  are  my 
slave."  The  Porter  was  afraid,  but  the 
bad  man  was  stronger  than  he.  The 
bad  man  put  bad  books  on  the  ta- 
bles, and  bad  pictures  on  the  walls. 
Soon  the  King  came  and  said  to  the 
Porter,  "Open  the  door."  But  the 
bad  man  shook  his  fist  at  him,  and 
told  him  not  to  open  the  door.  Then 
the  Porter  heard  a  sound  that  said 
that  he  better  had,  that  it  would  be 
better  for  him,  so  when  the  bad 
man's  back  was  turned,  the  Porter 
opened  the  door,  and  the  King  said, 
"Get  out  of  this  house."  Then  the 
King  made  a  good  house  out  of  it, 
and  you  would  have  thought  it  an- 
other house.  After  that,  the  bad  man 
came  again  and  again,  but  the  Por- 
ter would  not  let  him  in. 

Dr.  Babcock  instituted  the  custom 
of  the  Church  Session  giving  a  Bible 
to  each  baptized  child  who  had  at- 
tained the  age  of  twelve  years.  This 

[47] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

is  what  he  prepared  to  be  placed  in 
each  Bible. 

When  Jesus  was  twelve  years  old 
He  was  taken  to  the  Temple  at  Je- 
rusalem, because  He  was  no  longer 
a  little  child,  but  a  youth  who  would 
soon  be  a  man.  We  feel  to-day  that 
when  you  are  twelve  years  of  age  you 
are  old  enough  to  think  earnestly 
about  right  and  wrong,  and  about 
your  rapidly  forming  character.  We 
believe  that  you  are  the  Lord's.  You 
were  given  to  Him  in  Baptism  by 
your  parents,  and  were  thus  recog- 
nized as  a  child-member  of  Christ's 
Church.  As  such  a  member,  you  have 
received  from  us  a  Bible.  It  tells  of 
God's  love  to  you  (Jer.  31  :  3,  Mark 
10  :  14,  Romans  5  :  8,  1  John  4  :  7- 
11).  If  God  loves  you  and  has  given 
Jesus  to  be  your  Saviour  and  Friend, 
will  you  not  of  your  own  accord  give 
yourself  to  Him  .^  (Romans  12:1, 
2  Cor.  5  :14,  15).  He  will  accept  you 
(Matt.  11  :  28-30,  John  6  :37).  He 
asks  you  to  trust  Him  and  to  try  to 

[48] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

please  Him.  He  asks  you  to  obey 
Him,  and  says  that  He  will  accept 
your  obedience  for  love  (Matt.  7  : 
24,  25,  John  14  :  21-23,  1  John  2  : 
5).  You  are  not  saved  because  you 
try  to  be  good,  but  you  try  to  be 
good  because  you  are  saved.  A 
Christian  life  is  living  your  thanks 
to  God  for  His  love  to  you  (1  John 
4  :  19).  Because  Jesus  died  for  you, 
you  try  to  live  for  Him. 

When  you  know  you  have  given 
yourself  to  Him,  and  are  going  to  do 
your  best  to  obey  and  serve  Him, 
confess  Him  as  your  Saviour  and  come 
to  His  table  (Matt.  10  :  32-33. 

Read  your  Bible  every  day  to  know 
more  about  God's  love  and  your  duty 
(2  Timothy  3  :  15).  Be  obliging, 
obedient,  pure,  trustful,  unselfish, 
forgiving,  industrious,  persevering, 
punctual.  Do  not  read  anything  your 
conscience  disapproves.  Do  not  criti- 
cise unless  it  is  your  duty.  Live  the 
Golden  Rule,  the  life  of  Love  (Matt. 
7  :  12,  Acts  20  :  35,  John  13  :  34). 

If  you  are  in  doubt  about  anything, 

[49] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

think  what  Jesus  would  do  (1  John 
2:6),  and  pray  to  your  Father  in 
Heaven  to  show  you  what  is  right 
and  to  help  you  to  do  it.  Try  to  live 
so  that  Jesus  will  be  pleased ;  so  that 
you  will  make  your  home,  your 
school,  your  church,  your  work,  your 
play  better  and  not  worse  on  your 
account;  so  that  People  will  learn 
about  Jesus  and  the  Christian  life 
through  you  (Matt.  5  :  16) ;  so  that  at 
last  you  may  hear  the  words,  *'Well 
done,  good  and  faithful  servant." 
(Matt.  25  :  21.) 

This  was  signed  by  the  Pastor  and 
Clerk  of  the  Session. 

''Dolt  The  following  incident  taken  from 
(His  Life  ^  recent  sermon  at  Brown  Memorial 
Motto.)    cjj^j^ch^  upon  -  The  Sunday  School," 

I  use  as  personal  testimony  of  Dr. 
Babcock's  value  of  work  among  the 
children : 

There  are  numbers  of  children  who 

[50] 


FOOTSTEPS  m  A  PARISH 

are  not  regularly  in  any  Sunday 
School.  The  most  effective  way  to 
reach  these  families  is  through  the 
children.  Some  fifteen  years  ago, 
Dr.  Babcock  was  walking  down  a 
street  in  Baltimore  within  half  a 
mile  of  our  church,  and  saw  a  little 
girl  fall  on  the  sidewalk.  He  helped 
her  to  her  feet,  and  as  she  looked  up 
at  him  in  surprise  and  gratitude,  he 
asked  her  whether  she  went  to  Sun- 
day School.  Receiving  a  negative  re- 
ply, he  called  soon  at  her  house,  and 
invited  the  child  and  her  mother  to 
come  to  church  and  Sunday  School. 
They  came,  and  became  regular 
attendants.  Within  a  month  or  two, 
a  little  cousin  in  a  neighbouring  street 
came  with  them,  and  another  family 
was  reached.  Not  to  go  into  details, 
to  my  knowledge,  six  persons  have 
united  with  this  church  as  the  direct 
result  of  following  up  that  brief  con- 
versation with  the  little  child  who 
had  stumbled.  And  better  still,  a  half 
dozen  families  have  through  this  in- 
cident, taken  their  natural  place  in 

[51] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

the  church  through  the  Sunday 
School.  Is  not  this  a  picture  of  our 
principle  ?  Is  not  the  church  of  Christ 
His  divinely  appointed  institution  to 
lead  us  nearer  to  Him  and  to  asso- 
ciate us  more  nearly  in  His  serv- 
ice ?  Is  not  the  Church  of  Christ  the 
*' Meeting  House"  of  the  homes  and 
the  community,  and  not  only  the 
place  where  individuals  may  meet 
and  worship  God,  but  a  place  where 
the  family  altar  may  receive  a  deep 
inspiration  in  the  common  worship 
with  other  firesides?  Through  the 
child  in  the  Sunday  School,  the 
homes  without  God  should  find  the 
church,  and  the  church  should  find 
them. 

The  City.  His  pastoral  work  touched  the  en- 
tire city.  All  in  need  seemed  to  seek 
him.  His  warm  heart  and  practical 
human  interest  made  him  a  magnet 
for  those  out  of  employment  and  con- 
sequently in  distress!  Old  residents 
in  the  city,  and  those  who  are  com- 

[52] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

petent  to  judge,  claim  this  to  be  true 
to  a  greater  degree  than  with  any  one 
who  has  ever  resided  in  Baltimore, 
and  there  was  a  cause  for  this.  His 
unfailing  sympathetic  reply  was  usu- 
ally followed  by  the  securing  of  a  situ- 
ation for  the  person  in  need.  After  a 
time  this  caused  much  comment, 
and  frequently  astonishment.  "At 
this  time,"  wTites  one  who  was  in 
close  touch  with  the  factories,  foun- 
dries, mills,  etc.,  and  who  knew  of 
many  changes  among  employes,  "if 
Dr.  Babcock  was  especially  inter- 
ested in  a  man  or  woman,  I  do  not 
recall  a  single  instance  in  which  em- 
ployment was  not  there.  If  I  antici- 
pated great  trouble,  a  letter  from  him 
to  a  member  of  the  firm  (whether 
known  by  him  or  not)  seemed  to  act 
like  magic.  I  have  known  firms  hav- 

[531 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

ing  no  vacancy  to  take  on  an  extra 
man  more  than  once  on  account  of  a 
letter  from  him.  His  magnetism  ex- 
tended to  Jew  and  Romanist  ahke. 
Influential  men  among  both,  when 
asked  to  enlist  in  the  cause  of  secur- 
ing employment  for  some  unfortunate 
one,  would  confer  and  generally  land 
the  man  safely.  So  far  had  the  knowl- 
edge of  this  spread,  that  finally  cer- 
tain persons  comfortably  situated  in 
desirable  positions,  wrote  endeav- 
ouring to  better  their  conditions, 
but  the  talisman  was  not  used  for 
such  cases."  Almost  more  than  hu- 
man insight  seemed  to  detect  the 
motive  which  was  not  genuine  and 
worthy. 

Students     Studcuts   always   sought  him,   and 
were  sought  out  by  him,  that  he  might 

[54] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

meet  their  need.  At  his  death,  a 
former  Johns  Hopkins  student  wrote 
of  him  as  '*a  personal  loss  to  hun- 
dreds of  former  students  scattered 
all  over  the  world."  He  refers  to  him 
as  a  favourite  with  the  young  men  of 
the  university,  w^ho  were  helped  and 
encouraged  by  his  pure  life  and  heart- 
to-heart  preaching.  He  was  espe- 
cially kind  and  helpful  to  those  strug- 
gling with  poverty  and  assisted  many, 
regardless  of  church  affiliations,  to 
obtain  the  employment  necessary  to 
finish  their  course.  He  singled  out 
those  w^ho  were  obliged  to  spend 
Thanksgiving  and  Christmas  vaca- 
tions in  Baltimore,  and  invited 
them  to  his  cheerful  home,  and 
they  really  felt  they  were  among 
friends  who  had  deep  interest  in 
their  welfare. 

[55] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

At  the  The  influence  over  college  men,  as 
he  met  them,  was  just  as  strong  as  his 
influence  in  the  pulpit.  "The  Har- 
vard University  Forum,"  of  Janu- 
ary 25,  1898,  contains  an  article 
which  shows  the  impression  he  made 
there. 


Harvard.  On  Saturday  morning  appeared 
this  notice  in  the  "Crimson":  "Rev- 
erend M.  D.  Babcock,  of  Baltimore, 
will  conduct  service  at  Appleton 
Chapel  to-morrow  evening.  He  is  re- 
garded as  one  of  the  most  conspic- 
uous young  preachers  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church  in  the  East,  and  has 
been  called  to  several  of  the  largest 
pastorates.  This  will  be  his  first  visit 
to  Harvard." 

Knowing  that  Dr.  Babcock  is  a 
Syracuse  graduate,  and  that  he  deliv- 
ered the  Alumni  oration  in  Crouse 
Hall  in  1895,  I  went  down  to  Apple- 
ton  to  hear  him. 

Before  the  hymn  was  finished  read- 

[56] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

ing,  the  speaker  had  produced  a 
favourable  impression  on  the  audi- 
ence. Standing  in  the  high  Puritan 
pulpit,  overlooking  a  church  of  pil- 
lars, galleries  and  high-backed  seats 
full  of  Harvard  men,  he  looked,  in 
his  robes,  not  unlike  a  clergyman  of 
the  Church  of  England.  No  fire, 
however,  was  lacking  in  voice  or 
manner.  He  w^ent  straight  to  his  sub- 
ject. Every  man  is  an  individual 
with  a  work.  Not  *' learning  for 
learning's  sake,"  not  "truth  for 
truth's  sake,"  but  self-culture  for  self- 
consecration  ;  self-mastery  for  service ! 
Clear,  modulated  voice,  pungent  ar- 
gument, and  strenuous  earnestness, 
relieved  at  times  by  a  light  touch 
of  humour,  waked  up  that  audience 
as  Harvard  audiences  seldom  are 
awakened. 

After  his  sermon  was  over,  and  as 
the  great  organ  was  playing  the 
postlude,  I  heard  a  man  say  to  his 
neighbour,  "I've  been  studying 'for 
learning's  sake,'  but  I  believe  he's 
right!"    The  next  day  I  saw  several 

[57] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

that  believed  "he's  right,"  and  the 
whole  college  has  been  talking  of 
him  ever  since. 

BisPho-  During  those  years  which  imme- 
diately followed  his  annual  visit,  the 
students'  rooms  throughout  the 
schools  and  colleges  where  he 
preached  had  his  photograph  in 
evidence.  This  was  especially  true 
in  room  after  room  among  the  boys 
in  the  fifth  and  sixth  forms  at  the 
Hill  School,  for  here  particularly  he 
seemed  to  have  a  hold  upon  their 
hearts,  and  frequently  when  I  have 
been  calling  on  the  boys  in  their 
rooms,  a  happy  lad  would  say,  as  I 
stopped  before  the  photograph,  *'He 
gave  that  to  me  himself." 

The  Hill    In    Speaking    of    the   Hill    School, 

School.  Ill  •  p 

memory  goes  back  to  the  occasion  ot 
my  first  visit  there  during  the  Winter 

[58] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

of  nineteen  hundred  and  one  or  two. 
Many  demands  for  outside  work 
came  to  me  those  first  years  in  Balti- 
more, especially  from  the  schools 
and  colleges,  and  it  was  wise  to  de- 
cline most  invitations.  But  when  the 
invitation  came  from  the  Hill  School, 
I  recalled  a  single  remark  he  made 
on  the  night  of  my  installation.  His 
part  was  the  charge  to  the  pastor, 
but  just  before  we  entered  the 
church,  in  his  happy  pleasantry  of 
impulsive  suggestion,  he  said,  *'Do 
not  say  *Yes'  to  all  the  invitations 
you  get,  but  if  they  ask  you  to  go  up 
to  preach  to  the  boys  at  the  Hill 
School,  you  go.^'  This  made  a  dent 
in  my  memory,  because  much  of  his 
charge  was  devoted  to  the  counsel  of 
refusing  outside  and  additional  work. 
The   first  time  I  visited   the   Hill 

[59] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

School  will  ever  be  fresh  in  my  mem- 
ory. They  were  in  the  old  chapel  then, 
or  the  long  general  class  room  used  as 
a  chapel.  His  favourite  hymns  were 
used.  I  did  not  feel  like  an  inter- 
loper but  as  if  his  very  presence 
gave  inspiration  and  personality  to 
the  message.  The  warm  welcome 
from  all  immediately  touched  a  re- 
sponsive chord,  which  vibrated,  and 
has  vibrated  as  the  years  have  gone 
by.  Those  manly  boys  in  the  upper 
forms  all  remembered  him  on  that 
January  day,  and  during  the  service 
I  referred  to  the  personal  wish  he 
had  expressed  as  to  them,  if  the  in- 
vitation came  to  preach.  Every  fel- 
low seemed  linked  to  him  through 
his  affectionate,  winsome  personality, 
and  many  a  hand-shake  which  was 
mine  that  day,  I  recognized  as  alive 

[60] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

with  the  ambition  and  spirit  he  had 
created. 
Somewhat     similar    was     the     re-  student 

,  Confer- 

sponse  everywhere  with  students,  ences. 
The  Summer  previous,  at  Asheville, 
at  the  Southern  Student  Conference, 
one  of  the  manly  young  leaders  in 
the  work  of  a  Southern  university 
greeted  me  with  the  remark  that  he 
had  found  Christ  one  Sunday  morn- 
ing when  visiting  his  brother,  then  a 
student  at  Johns  Hopkins  Univer- 
sity, with  whom  he  attended  church 
at  Brown  Memorial. 

On  entering  the  chapel  when 
preaching  at  Princeton,  the  Fall  of 
that  same  year  of  nineteen  hundred 
and  two,  the  old  care-taker,  upon 
hearing  that  I  came  from  Baltimore, 
remarked,  "We  had  a  man  from 
Baltimore  here  three  years  ago,  who 

[61] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

kept  the  boys  awake.  In  fact  they 
did  not  seem  to  want  to  have  him 
stop  preaching."  (Any  man  who 
knows  college  students,  realizes  the 
force  of  this  compliment.)  One  may 
well  imagine  the  preacher's  feeling 
of  helplessness  with  such  an  intro- 
duction, but  the  day  was  unique  in 
that  it  was  the  first  Sunday  of  Presi- 
dent Wilson  in  his  executive  capac- 
ity, and  perhaps  the  novelty  of  things 
in  general  alleviated  distress. 
Searching  The  following  information  comes 
to  me  as  personal  testimony  from 
one  now  a  successful  physician  in  our 
city,  but  formerly  a  missionary  under 
our  Foreign  Board,  whose  return  was 
occasioned  by  ill  health  in  his  family : 

In  1893,  my  plans  for  earning  my 
college  expenses  having  fallen 
through,  I  found  myself  facing  the 

[62] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

situation  of  payinf]j  for  room,  food 
and  college  fees  with  twenty  dollars 
in  my  pocket.  My  chum,  like  my- 
self, a  medical  student  preparing  for 
the  Foreign  Field,  was  in  the  same 
case.  We  chose  Baltimore  as  a  place 
where  living  expenses  are  cheaper 
than  in  New  York,  paid  the  college 
fees,  rented  a  room  and  hunted  up 
the  cheapest  places  to  buy  food.  We 
found  that  it  would  be  possible  after 
paying  fifty  cents  a  w^eek  apiece  for 
room  rent,  to  live  on  one  dollar's 
worth  of  food,  and  started  in  on  this 
basis;  but  even  so,  our  funds  soon 
ran  short  and  the  problem  of  earn- 
ing a  few  dollars  became  a  vital  one. 
One  day  as  I  w^as  w^alking  back  from 
college,  I  remembered  how  pressing 
this  need  had  become.  As  I  neared 
my  lodging  (a  little  upper-story  back 
room  on  Broadway),  I  noticed  a  bi- 
cycle at  the  door  of  the  house,  but 
paid  no  attention  to  it,  and  wended 
my  way  upstairs,  trying  as  I  passed 
the  family  downstairs  to  be  as  cheer- 
ful as  usual. 

[63] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

In  my  room,  an  angel  in  disguise 
was  awaiting  me,  for  there  sat  a  man 
whom  my  room-mate  introduced  as 
Dr.  Maltbie  Babcock,  pastor  of 
Brown  Memorial  Church.  With- 
out further  ceremony,  he  said  to  me, 
**Do  you  know  me.^  Did  you  ever 
hear  me  speak  on  the  subject  '  Over- 
coming Difficulties'  ?  Have  you  ever 
been  to  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  ?  and  did 
you  write  a  letter  to  me,  and  not  sign 
your  name,  a§  being  a  young  man 
w^ho  had  overcome  difficulties.^" 

As  soon  as  I  could  catch  my 
breath,  after  this  business-like  be- 
ginning, I  replied,  ''Yes,  I  have 
heard  of  you,  and  have  heard  you 
speak;  but  as  to  writing  the  letter, 
I  cannot  say,  for  I  often  write  letters 
and  forget  them  as  soon  as  they  are 
written."  So  he  went  on  to  describe 
the  letter  which  said  in  substance, 
"I  have  heard  you  speak  this  after- 
noon on  the  subject  of  'Overcom- 
ing Difficulties,'  and  wondered 
whether  I  could  not  tell  you  some- 
thing about  overcoming  difficulties  in 

[64] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

the  way  of  getting  an  education.  I 
have  been  living  in  a  garret,  and  my 
food  and  rent  have  only  cost  me  one 
dollar  and  a  half  a  week,"  etc.,  etc. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "Dr.  Babcock, 
that  suits  my  case,  and  the  writing 
looks  like  mine,  but  I  do  not  remem- 
ber doing  it." 

Then  he  said,  "Do  you  know 
Reverend  C.  H.  Daniels,  of  Bos- 
ton.?" I  said  ''Yes."  "Well,  he  sent 
me  to  you,  and  do  you  know  how .?" 
I  could  not  imagine,  so  he  said, 
"Well,  it  was  this  way.  W^hen  I  re- 
ceived your  anonymous  letter,  I  put 
it  away  with  the  sermon,  'Over- 
coming Difficulties,'  and  when  I 
preached  that  sermon  at  Dr.  Dan- 
iels's church  in  Boston  in  the  Spring, 
I  related  this  little  incident,  and  said, 
'  I  have  often  wished  that  I  could  find 
those  boys  who  are  striving  so  hard 
to  get  an  education.'  After  service. 
Dr.  Daniels  said  to  me,  'Dr.  Bab- 
cock, I  can  tell  you  who  one  of  those 
young  men  is,  for  he  has  written  to 
me  telling  me  of  his  work  in  Balti- 

[65] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

more  where  he  is  preparing  to  go  as 
a  medical  missionary.'  When  I  re- 
turned home  this  letter  was  awaiting 
me,  the  name  and  215  N.  Broadway 
given,  asking  me  to  please  go  to  see 
you  and  find  out  how  you  are  get- 
ting along.  So  here  I  am,  ready  to 
do  anything  I  can  to  help  you;  and 
you  know  there  are  many  people  in 
my  congregation  who  stand  ready  to 
give  me  anything  I  need  to  help 
those  who  help  themselves.  So  don't 
you  hesitate  to  call  upon  me  at  any 
time.  Good-bye,"  and  he  was  gone. 
But  let  me  say  that  the  next  mail 
brought  a  check  for  five  dollars, 
which  was  the  first  of  several  re- 
ceived that  Winter.  Not  only  this, 
he  did  not  forget  to  see  that  we  had 
a  good  Christmas  dinner  and  often 
gave  us  an  order  for  groceries  at  the 
best  store  in  town. 
All  through  the  following  Winter, 
Dr.  Babcock  still  watched  over  us, 
and  when  my  room-mate  fell  ill  with 
typhoid  fever,  he  stood  by  us  in  all 
our    difficulties.   After    my    gradua- 

[66] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

tion  and  hospital  service  was  over, 
when  I  was  ready  to  sail  for  Africa 
and  was  married,  we  both  joined 
Brown  Memorial  Church,  and  his 
helpful  letters  to  me  on  the  field  were 
always  of  good  cheer. 

A  dear  friend  has  just  written  me 
a  letter  regarding  him,  which  adds 
to  our  thought.  She  writes: 

He  opened  every  window  of  his 
soul  toward  Him  who  is  love,  Who 
**went  about  doing  good,"  then 
turned  his  glad  face  to  every  creature 
that  crossed  his  path,  and  light  and 
warmth  radiated  from  him  to  them. 
The  little  children  that  he  met  always 
received  his  cheery  smile.  Yes,  it 
once  pleased  him  that  a  common 
little  English  sparrow  continued  to 
drink  when  he  had  passed  close  to  it. 

He  knew  the  value  of  trifles.  It  is  Trifles. 
out  of  littleness  that  greatness  ger- 
minates.   He    realized    that    words 
and  acts  are  seeds.  Only  God  can 
estimate  the  harvest.  This  kept  him 

[67] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

alert  for  opportunities.  Once  no- 
ticing on  the  train  a  bright,  intelligent 
boy  who  was  plying  his  mother  and 
sister  with  questions  until  their  pa- 
tience was  exhausted,  he  beckoned 
to  the  boy  and  showed  him  a  new 
watch  with  a  peculiar  mechanism 
which  he  explained  to  the  delighted 
child.  Suddenly  the  boy  exclaimed, 
**I  know  you,  sir,  you  preached  in 
our  church  in  Washington  one  Sun- 
day on  *Luck.'  I  liked  that  sermon, 
but  people  are  lucky  sometimes, 
aren't  they.^"  In  the  sermon  to 
which  the  boy  referred  occurred  the 
true  definition  of  the  accidental, 
"Luck  is  law  unrecognized.  Chance 
is  purpose  in  disguise."  I  do  not 
doubt  that  the  sermon  that  followed 
addressed  to  the  one  little  listener  in 
reply  to  his  eager  question  was  as 
full  of  thought  as  the  memorable 
one  to  the  great  congregation. 

He  knew  human  nature.  He  stud- 
ied it  in  the  lives  of  his  own  congre- 
gation and  the  people  that  daily 
crossed  his  path,  and   the  material 

[681 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

thus  gained  was  woven  into  his  ser- 
mons. In  his  prayers  more  powerful 
than  his  sermons,  his  people  felt  that 
he  was  indeed  their  priest  bringing 
their  individual  needs  to  the  "Great 
Hi^h  Priest." 

He  knew   the   Word   of   God,   the  The 
revelation  of  the  Divine  nature  and  ^°^^ 
the  key  which  unlocks  the  mystery 
of  the  other  two  volumes  and  con- 
verts knowledge  into  life. 

In  a  sermon  on  "The  Bible"  he 
once  said: 

The  Bible  holds  its  influence  over 
men,  not  because  it  is  thousands  of 
years  old,  but  because  it  is  a  present 
answer  to  present  needs.  This  Book 
w^ill  keep  you  from  sin  or  sin  will 
keep  you  from  this  Book. 

The  following  illustration  he  also 
used  at  the  time: 

Some  years  ago,  two  gentlemen 
were  riding  together,  and  as  they 
were    about    to    separate,    one    ad- 

[69] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

dressed  the  other  thus:  "Do  you  ever 
read  your  Bible?"  "Yes,  but  I  get 
no  benefit  from  it,  because,  to  tell  the 
truth,  I  feel  I  do  not  love  God." 
"Neither  did  I,"  replied  the  other, 
"but  God  loved  me."  This  answer 
produced  such  an  effect  upon  his 
friend,  that  to  use  his  own  words,  it 
was  as  if  one  had  lifted  him  off  the 
saddle  into  the  skies,  so  great  was 
the  truth  it  opened  up  to  his  soul. 

Ministe-  He  ncvcr  defined  the  limit  of  his 
tesy.  parish  with  any  degree  of  strictness. 
Every  courtesy  and  thoughtful  atten- 
tion was  extended  to  the  interests  of 
other  pastors  and  churches.  When- 
ever he  crossed  the  line  of  another 
pastor,  he  quickly  stepped  aside  to  let 
the  other  have  his  full  place.  As  a 
neighbour,  he  never  hesitated  to  enter 
a  home  where  there  was  need,  no 
matter  what  the  church  relation.  One 
night  on  coming  home  to  the  manse 

[70] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

quite  late,  he  saw  a  light  burning  in 
an  unaccustomed  place  in  the  home  of 
an  invalid.  Following  his  impulse  he 
was  quickly  on  the  steps,  and  after 
ringing  the  bell  quietly,  inquired  if 
there  was  anything  he  could  do  to 
help.  It  was  just  the  moment  when 
a  friend  was  needed,  and  his  thought- 
fulness  has  never  been  forgotten,  not 
only  by  the  family  benefited,  but  by 
the  entire  neighbourhood.  It  is  only 
another  illustration  of  that  wonder- 
ful truth,  often  forgotten,  that  im- 
pulse prompted  by  loving  thought 
seldom  goes  astray. 

The  footprints  would  not  lead  us  far  Con-fi- 
enough  if  we  did  not  follow  them  a  Men. 
little  farther  into  the  personal  realm. 
Peculiarly  he  seemed  to  possess  the 
gift   of   discriminating  insight  as  to 

[71] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

character,  and  was  able  to  distinguish 
between  the  man  with  honest  pur- 
pose and  will  and  the  one  who 
feigned  sincerity.  We  would  not  so  ex- 
aggerate as  to  claim  that  errors  of 
judgment  were  never  ma^de,  but  re- 
peated incidents  show  that  the  per- 
centage of  such  mistaken  confidence 
with  him  was  almost  at  the  minimum. 
One  morning,  a  close  friend  and 
prominent  banker,  responded  to  his 
call  over  the  'phone,  and  was  requested 
to  let  a  certain  man,  who  was  on  his 
way  down  to  the  bank,  have  one  hun- 
dred dollars  on  his  account.  Dr.  Bab- 
cock  added,  "I  will  be  down  in  a  few 
hours  and  fix  it  up  with  you."  The 
banker  replied,  suggesting  that  per- 
haps he  did  not  know  that  this 
particular  man  was  a  worthless 
and  well-known  dead  beat.  He  also 

[72] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

volunteered  that  the  man  would 
be  glad  to  get  fifty  cents,  to  say 
nothing  about  a  hundred  dollars. 
The  reply  came,  "  Well,  I  believe  he 
has  started  on  a  different  track.  I  am 
sure  he  can  be  trusted.  You  let  him 
have  the  one  hundred  dollars,  and 
take  his  note  for  it."  In  recounting 
the  incident  later,  the  banker  ad- 
mitted that  he  had  never  let  an  equal 
sum  go  out  of  his  hands  more  re- 
luctantly. He  followed  implicitly  Dr. 
Babcock's  directions,  taking  the  note, 
and,  of  course,  failed  to  hear  from 
the  man.  Some  two  or  three  years 
later,  a  gentleman  walked  into  his 
private  ofiice,  well-dressed,  alert  and 
straightforward.  "You  do  not  know 
me,"  he  said.  Upon  gaining  a  nega- 
tive reply,  he  added,  "You  do  not 
seem  to  remember  letting  me  have 

[73] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

one  hundred  dollars  some  years  ago 
at  Dr.  Babcock's  request.  I  think  you 
have  my  note  for  the  same.  I  have 
come  in  to  pay  that  note  with  full 
interest  to  date."  He  then  stated  he 
had  gone  directly  to  his  home,  had 
begun  life  anew,  and  had  been  suc- 
cessful and  happy.  He  added,  "No- 
body believed  in  me  in  Baltimore 
outside  of  Dr.  Babcock,  and  he  was 
the  first  man  who  gave  me  any  faith 
in  myself." 

He  had  a  way  of  controlling  the 
conversation  in  lines  related  to  the 
special  interests  of  the  home  or  indi- 
vidual. The  subject  nearest  to  heart- 
need  was  delicately  introduced,  con- 
fidence being  established  at  once. 
The  approach  to  the  inner  life  was 
never  suggested  unless  he  saw  the 

[74] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

door  open,  yet  with  perfect  frank- 
ness he  made  his  errand  known,  and 
sometimes  even  ran  the  risk  of  open- 
ing a  troubhng  question  when  he 
was  assured  that  there  was  uneasi- 
ness and  anxiety. 

A  mother's  heart  was  being  broken 
by  a  dissolute  son.  Night  after  night 
the  neighbours  knew  the  old  story, 
as  carriage  or  friend  would  bring  him 
home  intoxicated.  He  knew  that 
mother's  heart,  and  also  her  delicate 
sensitiveness,  so  unwilling  to  realize 
that  others  knew.  Upon  shaking 
hands  with  her  as  he  left,  he  quietly 
said,  **  Remember  me  to  your  son 
and  ask  him  to  stop  after  the  ser- 
vice some  Sunday  evening;  I  have  a 
favour  he  can  do  for  me."  That  man 
became  interested,  and  in  time  was 
reclaimed. 

[75] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

infor-  Before  or  after  the  Summer  season, 
when  spending  a  few  weeks  in  town 
alone,  he  had  the  habit  of  calling  up 
certain  homes  by  'phone,  and  telling 
them  he  would  be  around  for  lunch, 
or  dinner.  In  some  cases,  he  did  not 
hesitate  to  run  in  without  the  slight- 
est invitation  to  breakfast.  At  onetime, 
feeling  he  did  not  know  a  gentleman 
in  the  parish  quite  as  well  as  he  de- 
sired, and  knowing  his  genial  nature 
and  kindly  spirit,  he  told  him  he  was 
coming  in  some  morning  for  break- 
fast. After  a  quick  run  on  his  wheel 
in  the  park,  he  stopped  at  the  house 
one  morning,  and  asked  the  butler  if 
Mr.  So-and-So  was  at  home.  He  then 
asked  him  to  show  him  to  the  guest's 
bath  room,  and  after  taking  a  bath, 
came  down  to  breakfast  to  greet  the 
family.  His  happy  host  in  recounting 

[76] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

the  incident  later,  said  that  nothing 
he  ever  did  so  touched  him  in  the  dis- 
play of  his  confidence  and  friendship. 

It  is  said,  "To  know  Dr.  Babcock  Sorrow. 
well,  to  realize  what  a  friend  he  could 
be — one  must  have  trouble."  A  close 
friend  in  the  parish  writes:  *'I  had 
the  misfortune  during  the  two  years 
he  was  my  pastor  to  be  both  healthy 
and  happy,  yet  it  was  in  one  of  life's 
dark  hours  that  I  first  went  to  Brown 
Memorial  and  it  was  there  that  the 
help  came.  He  •did  more  to  educate 
me  in  those  two  short  years  than  all 
the  schools  I  had  attended.  My  let- 
ters are  rather  personal,  but  there  are 
some  beautiful  thoughts  in  them,  and 
I  shall  be  glad  to  leave  them  with 
you  for  you  and  Dr.  Babcock  are 
now  inseparably  associated.  One  of 

[77] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

the  great  secrets  of  his  success  lay  m 
the  fact  that  Uke  his  Master,  he  ad- 
dressed the  potentiality,  not  the  act- 
uaHty,  in  his  hearers.  'Take  up  thy 
bed  and  walk.'  'Thou  art  Peter.'" 
We  can  never  help  any  one  in  whom 
we  do  not  believe.  Dr.  Babcock  made 
each  man  feel  that  he  had  faith  in 
him  because  there  is  no  limit  to  the 
possibility  that  even  the  weakest  can 
attain  in  Christ.  Quoting  from  one  of 
his  sermons,  he  alludes  to  the  unnec- 
essary anxiety  of  many: 

For  every  trial  God  sends.  He  gives 
sufficient  grace  for  its  endurance; 
but  He  promises  no  grace  with  which 
to  bear  anticipations,  and  w^e  little 
know  how  very  large  a  portion  of  our 
mental  sufferings  arises  from  antici- 
pation of  trial. 

At  the        His  gift  in  times  of  sorrow  may  be 

Piano.  .,..., 

seen  m  this  mcident.  A  young  woman 

[78] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

had  lost  one  of  her  parents.  It  was  her 
first  great  sorrow.  Life  was  dark, 
every  day  cloudy.  Her  piano  had  not 
been  touched,  and  before  it  had  been 
her  greatest  joy,  almost  a  passion,  for 
she  played  beautifully.  He  had  not 
been  able  to  see  her  when  he  called 
before !  Her  friends  seemed  to  have  no 
way  of  cheering  her.  As  the  servant 
took  his  card,  he  said:  "I  do  not 
think  she  will  see  you,"  but  at  his 
word  went  upstairs.  Almost  imme- 
diately there  came  into  her  room 
above  the  distant  but  certain  strains 
of  her  favourite  sonata.  The  soft  pedal 
could  not  smother  the  personality  of 
the  marvellous  touch  she  knew  so 
well.  Before  the  card  had  reached 
the  third  story,  she  with  blinded  eyes 
was  hastening  down.  The  spell  was 
broken.  After  ten  minutes  between 

[79] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

pastor  and  motherless  child,  the  sun- 
light had  riven  the  cloud,  and  from 
the  front  door  she  went  back  again 
to  her  dear  companion,  to  let  heart 
and  hand  blend  in  sympathy  and 
comfort. 

"Be  One  afternoon,  the  room  I  entered 

was  a  little  parlour  in  a  modest  home 
on  one  of  the  side  streets.  A  little 
child  let  me  in,  and  came  running 
back  to  tell  me  that  her  mother 
would  be  in  in  a  few  moments.  As  I 
lifted  the  shade  to  spend  the  time  glanc- 
ing over  the  evening  paper,  my  eye 
fell  upon  the  opposite  wall,  and  there 
was  his  picture  neatly  framed;  just 
above  in  an  artistic  setting,  his  little 
poem,  "Be  Strong."  Near  by  hung 
another  small  frame,  with  one  of  the 
four  hundred  cards  of  pressed  flowers 

[80] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

sent  to  the  Sunday  School  children 
from  the  Holy  Land  on  that  last 
trip.  Suddenly  the  walls  of  that  room 
seemed  to  expand.  A  vision  of  scores 
of  such  scenes  was  called  to  mind, 
not  only  in  quiet,  unassuming  homes 
like  this,  but  also  among  the  wealthy. 
In  delicate  frame,  amid  the  varied 
costly  ornaments  of  the  mantel-piece, 
or  in  some  conspicuous  or  honoured 
spot  upon  the  wall  this  same  picture 
hangs.  Scarcely  a  home  which  he  knew 
throughout  the  entire  parish  in  which 
his  photograph  is  not  seen ;  often  up- 
stairs on  the  little  stand  near  the  bed- 
side, or  chair  of  an  invalid,  or  shut-in. 


His  relationship  to  the  ministers  of  Fellow 
the  city  was  close  and  personal,  and  ters 
never  controlled  by  denominational 
lines.   Recently  at  a  little  gathering 

[81] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

of  ministers  representing  many  de- 
nominations, a  like  testimony  came 
from  three  of  differing  creeds.  Of  the 
many  letters  of  welcome  from  fellow 
pastors  when  they  came  to  Baltimore, 
Dr.  Babcock's  had  been  the  first  re- 
ceived. Similar  testimony  was  ex- 
pressed from  the  same  men  as  to  his 
letters  of  sympathy.  One  pastor  of 
long  years'  standing  in  the  city  referred 
to  a  serious  personal  accident  some 
fifteen  years  before.  He  said  that  the 
first  of  four  hundred  letters  of  sym- 
pathy which  he  received  reached 
him  from  Dr.  Babcock,  sent  by  a 
special  messenger.  This  is  another 
illustration  of  the  place  which  the 
word  "now"  had  in  his  vocabularv. 
In  this  particular  instance  it  was 
stated  that  he  must  have  received 
the   news   of  this  accident  by  tele- 

[82] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

phone   or   by   word   of  mouth,   and 
immediately  dispatched  his  note. 

There  was  a  httle  s^irl,  sick  with  CMcken- 
chicken-pox,  strange  to  say,  very 
sick.  She  grew  worse  each  day.  The 
doctor  said  she  must  see  no  one.  She 
seemed  so  sad  and  discouraged.  If 
she  could  only  be  her  own  happy  little 
self  again!  Just  to  laugh  once  would 
mean  that  she  was  getting  better,  so 
the  doctor  said.  Dr.  Babcock  never 
asked  if  he  might  go  upstairs,  but 
slipped  away  from  those  in  the  par- 
lour, saying,  "  I'll  be  back  in  a  min- 
ute." Into  the  chamber  he  stole  noise- 
lessly, and  looking  warningly  at  the 
girl's  mother,  softly  told  the  child  that 
he  had  come  to  tell  her  a  story.  He 
"knew  a  little  boy  who  had  the 
chicken-pox,  and  nobody  knew  what 

[83] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

was  the  matter  with  him.  One  day, 
the  Httle  fellow  looked  up  into  his 
mother's  face  and  said,  *  Mother,  I 
know  what  I've  got.  I've  got  the 
chicken-pox ;  'cause  I  found  a  feather 
in  the  bed.'"  The  little  face  had 
turned  on  the  hot  pillow,  and  as  he 
kissed  the  little  hand  good-by,  both 
mother  and  child  were  really  laugh- 
ing. A  moment  more,  and  he  was  on 
the  street,  hastening  on  to  the  next 
number,  all  of  which  he  knew  by 
heart.  To  this  day,  that  mother  will 
tell  you  how  he  saved  that  child's 
life. 

The  front  room  was  brilliantly 
lighted.  Little  tables  filled  both 
rooms.  Cards  were  here  and  there. 
A  few  ladies  had  already  gathered. 
Others   were   coming   up   the   street 

[84] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

steps.  All  confused  the  hostess  came 
forward  and  said,  "  Well,  you've 
caught  me  this  time.  What  do  you 
think  of  this,  anyhow.^"  (Four  or 
five  such  scenes  have  been  related  to 
me,  but  one  reply  will  suffice.)  As  he 
slipped  out,  he  said  earnestly,  "I've 
only  called  to  ask  how  the  boy  was 
getting  along  in  college."  He  never 
seemed  to  lose  his  sense  of  appro- 
priate and  suggestive  help.  His  open 
words,  public  and  private,  were  fear- 
less as  to  all  the  subtle  sins  of  so- 
ciety, but  he  never  allowed  an  ill- 
timed  word  to  cross-purpose  his  in- 
terest and  responsibility  in  a  home. 
That  mother  began  to  think  of  her 
boy  in  college  with  an  awakened 
conscience  which  took  responsibility 
and  prayer  into  account.  This  new 
line  of  thought  was  associated  with 

[85] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

that  which  had  grown  almost  con- 
trolling. The  card  table,  after  all,  was 
a  secondary,  not  a  primary  affair. 

But  what  was  the  secret  of  his 
power  ?  How  often  the  question  comes 
to  us  from  strangers,  who  have  heard 
of  his  magnetism,  his  drawing  and 
holding  power,  and  who  cannot  ex- 
plain it.  As  the  years  go  on,  and  make 
a  clearer  focus  and  more  accurate  per- 
spective possible,  the  answer  seems 
increasingly  satisfying,  ''It  was  the 
utter  sweetness  of  his  spirit,  his 
Master's  spirit,  which  the  emptying 
of  himself  of  self  and  selfish  desires 
and  selfish  dominance  had  made 
possible  to  possess  in  double  measure. 
He  seemed  to  be  entirely  possessed 
of  a  spirit  of  love  to  all  the  world, 
without  distinction  of  class,  age,  sex, 

[86] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

or  color.  This  combined  with  a  fine 
sensitiveness  of  perception  of  an- 
other's view-point  gave  him  power  to 
put  himself  in  another's  place  and  to 
do  as  he  would  be  done  by."  To  this 
definition  of  good-breeding,  Dr.  Bab- 
cock  certainly  lived  up  in  all  his 
dealings  with  men.  It  was  no  matter 
of  parish  expediency,  of  keeping  on 
the  right  side  of  his  people,  of  being 
able  even  to  "do  them  good,"  that 
elusive  and  questionable  possibility 
which  flies  before  us  like  a  will-o'- 
the-wisp,  persuading  us  to  help  by 
doing  rather  than  by  being.  The 
carpenter  in  the  house,  the  ash-man  His  in- 
in  the  alley,  the  child  on  the  street,  ^^^^' 
even  the  yellow^  dog  that  he  passed 
— all  were  the  better  for  his  presence. 
Why  ?  I  believe  the  answer  is,  there 
was  in  him  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  of  peace 

[871 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

and  good-will,  of  love,  joy,  gentleness, 
goodness  and  the  intense  desire  to 
share  his  Father's  love  with  his 
Father's  children.  This  made  the 
atmosphere  in  which  he  lived  seem 
cleaner,  purer,  more  holy. 

In  this  connection,  we  quote  from  a 
letter  from  one  church  member  to  an- 
other. This  quotation  he  once  printed 
in  the  weekly  calendar. 

For  yourself  I  have  many  times  be- 
sought the  Lord.  Truly  He  is  able  to 
keep  what  we  commit.  Perhaps  you 
have  not  really  committed  everything 
in  your  heart  and  life  to  Him.  You 
know  the  word  "commit"  means 
"deposit."  and  that  is  taking  one's 
hands  off.  We  are  to  reckon  ourselves 
dead,  and  that  is  our  good  self  as 
well  as  our  bad  self.  In  a  word,  I  do 
believe  we  are  to  have  done  with  the 
subjective  in  our  Christian  life  and 
ever  be  occupied  with  Christ  who  is 

[881 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

our  life.  This  may  not  seem  very 
practicable,  but  I  assure  you  it  is. 
Study  about  Him;  think  of  Him;  let 
the  Holy  Spirit  glorify  Him  in  your 
apprehension,  and  then  He  will  be 
glorified  in  your  experience.  Com- 
munion with  Christ  is  most  certainly 
the  source  of  all  likeness  to  Christ. 

Below  it  he  wrote : 

The  outward  look,  not  the  inward,  Reflect- 
leads  to  health.  The  upward  look,  *^^- 
not  the  downward,  leads  to  humility. 
The  Christward  look,  not  the  self- 
ward,  leads  to  holiness  and  Heaven. 
"But  we  all,  with  unveiled  face,  re- 
flecting as  a  mirror  the  glory  of  the 
Lord,  are  transformed  into  the  same 
image  from  glory  to  glory,  as  by  the 
Lord— the  Spirit."  2  Cor.  3  :  18. 

Although  very  many  instances  have  Personal 
come  to  light  of  that  brief  but  effec- 
tive pastorate  in  the  Brick  Church, 
we  would  recount  but  one  which  calls 
attention  characteristically  to  his  win- 

[80] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

some  yet  persistent  work  for  the 
souls  of  men.  A  young  man  of  bril- 
liant and  striking  personality,  who 
had  been  brought  up  strictly  in  a 
church  of  another  denomination  from 
Dr.  Babcock's,  was  struggling  to 
complete  his  education  in  New  York. 
This  Sunday  morning  on  which  he 
attended  the  Brick  Church  service, 
was  the  one  previous  to  communion. 
After  the  announcements,  Dr.  Bab- 
cock  leaned  forward,  and  with  most 
earnest  evidence  of  personal  feeling, 
urged  those  who  had  hesitated  here- 
tofore to  confess  Christ,  to  do  so  at 
that  time,  stating  that  if  there  were 
any  individuals  present,  no  matter 
of  what  religious  training,  who  be- 
lieved in  Jesus  Christ  and  desired 
to  serve  Him,  he  would  be  glad  to 
talk    with    them    after    the    service. 

[90] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

Then  he  added:  *' Young  man,  do 
not  leave  this  place  without  letting 
me  talk  with  you,  if  you  think  that 
I  can  help  you.  I  would  request  all 
friends  in  the  parish  to  make  way  for 
strangers  and  those  in  need  of  spir- 
itual help,  at  the  close  of  the  service." 
The  young  man  had  for  years  been 
considering  this  question,  but  had 
from  time  to  time  postponed  the  de- 
cision. He  decided  immediately  to 
take  the  step;  but  the  friend  with 
him  urged  him  to  walk  down  town 
with  him,  and  hesitating,  the  resolve 
was  broken,  and  he  w  ent  down  Fifth 
Avenue  with  his  friend.  At  every 
street  crossing,  his  conscience 
pricked  him,  and  finally,  after  pass- 
ing one  or  two  of  the  hotels,  he  told 
his  friend,  that  he  was  going  back  to 
speak  to  Dr.  Babcock. 

[91] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

As  he  walked  up  the  aisle,  he  saw 
a  number  of  people  who  were  still 
waiting  to  greet  the  pastor  socially, 
but  with  a  peculiar  instinct,  Dr.  Bab- 
cock  seemed  to  catch  the  eye  of  this 
young  man,  and  excusing  himself  to 
all  the  others,  he  reached  through 
the  crowd  and  beckoned  to  him, 
''You  wanted  to  see  me  personally? 
Is  it  in  regard  to  the  invitation  I  gave 
this  morning?"  After  a  few  words, 
Dr.  Babcock  said,  "I  will  call  on  you 
this  week."  Although  the  young  man 
tried  to  make  other  arrangements, 
he  was  firm  and  said,  "No,  I  will  see 
you  in  your  room." 

Three  times  that  week  Dr.  Bab- 
cock went  to  see  that  student,  up  in 
his  little  room  at  the  top  of  one  of 
the  four  or  five  story  buildings  now 
cut  up  into  roomers'  quarters.  The 

[92] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

third  time  he  found  him,  and  al- 
though the  man  had  been  reluctant 
to  let  him  see  the  restricted  condi- 
tions which  his  small  means  could 
alone  afford,  this  was  quickly  over- 
come, and  he  spent  over  an  hour  in 
that  young  man's  room,  until  he  set- 
tled freely  and  completely  each  per- 
sonal difficulty.  The  open  confession 
the  following  Sunday  was  decisive 
and  sincere.  The  young  man  related 
this  incident  to  the  pastor  of  his 
home  church  in  a  neighbouring  city, 
saying  that  Dr.  Babcock  had  urged 
him  to  confess  Christ  in  a  church  of 
his  own  denomination  unless  he  felt 
definitely  led  to  do  otherwise. 


No  greater  or  more  beautiful  trib-  The  Far 

Reach. 

ute  has  recently  been  paid   to  this 
man  of  God  as  a  city  pastor  than  that 

[93] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

impersonal  reference  made  by  Miss 
Mary  E.  Richmond,  formerly  en- 
gaged in  the  charity  work  of  our 
city,  in  her  little  book  recently  pub- 
lished, "The  Good  Neighbour." 

The  last  chapter  begins  by  saying, 
*'I  am  forcibly  reminded  of  one  who 
was  called  from  this  earth  some 
years  ago  but  whose  ministry  in  a 
large  city  church  still  remains  an  in- 
spiration to  many.  His  creed  and 
mine  differed  widely  and  I  seldom 
heard  him  preach,  but  there  was  no 
public  task  with  which  I  was  asso- 
ciated that  did  not  show  the  influence 
of  his  daily  endeavour  to  apply  the 
Gospel  of  Christ  to  the  life  of  the 
city  in  which  we  both  worked.  The 
city's  great  net- work,  with  its  tangles 
here,  its  gaps  there,  its  complex  of 
relations,   political,    educational,    in- 

[94] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

dustrial,  social — this  huge  net  and  its 
motley  contents  he  saw  largely  and 
sanely  but  with  an  intense  compas- 
sion for  the  spiritually  undernour- 
ished that  were  caught  within  its 
mesh. 

"Some  clergymen  who  feel  this  *call  Training 
of  the  city,'  fling  themselves  un-  church. 
selfishly  into  its  life,  but  dissipate 
their  strength  by  becoming  directors 
of  many  boards,  attending  many 
meetings  and  making  many  ad- 
dresses on  a  great  variety  of  topics. 
This  was  not  his  way.  Having  in  mind 
always  that  the  exercise  and  develop- 
ment of  the  members  of  his  own  con- 
gregation in  the  Christian  life  was  his 
highest  duty,  he  set  himself  the  task 
of  studying  first  the  needs  of  the  city 
in  which  they  lived  then  the  possi- 
bilities both  social  and  spiritual  of 

[95] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

the  many  agencies  created  to  meet 
these  needs;  and  last,  the  aptitudes 
and  capacities  of  his  people.  The 
city  was  their  workshop,  and  into  it 
he  fed  them  freely,  associating  them 
w^ith  every  uplifting  work  that  was 
going  forward.  Some  of  his  men 
visited  prisons  and  became  volun- 
teer probation  officers  in  charge  of 
individual  boys,  others  founded  an 
equitable  loan  company  for  the 
poorer  sort  of  borrowers  and  many 
worked  hard  in  municipal  cam- 
paigns. The  women  of  his  church 
visited  families  in  distress  under  the 
best  guidance  that  he  was  able  to 
secure  for  them,  and  gave  efficient 
aid  on  hospital  committees  and  in 
children's  work. 

The  church  had  no  group  of  char- 
itable buildings,  no  new  charities  to 

[96] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

which  it  could  point  with  pride;  it 
was  a  city  as  a  whole  that  bore  elo- 
quent witness  to  the  power  of  his 
preaching.  But  in  however  many 
places  outside  the  church  boundaries 
his  people  may  have  made  that 
power  felt,  all  the  work  that  they  did 
was  religious  work;  they  always  so 
regarded  it,  and  their  first  loyalty 
was  always  to  their  church  and  its 
leader.  Sometimes  it  seemed  to  me, 
an  onlooker,  that  he  played  upon 
the  community  as  upon  a  great  organ, 
drawing  from  it  new  and  inspiring 
spiritual  harmonies." 

The  Memorial  window  which  com-  Memo- 
memorates  his  love  and  faithfulness 
in   Brown   Memorial  has  this    text: 
"Not  disobedient  unto  the  Heavenly 
Vision."  As  we  look  with  John   the 

[97] 


FOOTSTEPS  IN  A  PARISH 

Seer  from  desolate  Patmos  up  into 
the  mysterious  beauty  of  "The  Holy 
City,"  we  catch  the  gleam  of  light 
from  the  city  itself,  and  as  it  scintil- 
lates in  the  sparkling  water  of  the 
River  of  Life,  we  see  the  angels  on 
the  right  lifting  up  their  crowns  to 
him  that  overcometh. 

The  beautiful  tablet  which  inscribes 
his  memory  in  the  Brick  Church,  in 
New  York,  gives  us  the  secret: 

Not  slothful  in  business,  fervent  in 
spirit,  serving  the  Lord,  rejoicing  in 
hope,  patient  in  tribulation,  contin- 
uing instant  in  prayer.  He  preached 
the  word  with  gladness,  comforted 
the  sorrowful  with  tender  mercy  and 
brought  a  blessing  in  the  name  of 
Christ  to  the  hearts  of  his  people 
who  remember  him  ever  with  grate- 
ful love. 


[98] 


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